I Suppose It's A Twin Thing
by Majick
Summary: Alicia dreams, Angelina screams and Fred and George are, well, Fred and George. The Fourway tradition continues with an entirely different cast Complete
1. Chapter One: Alicia's Tale

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**…I Suppose It's A Twin Thing**

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**_Alicia's Tale_**

How many times did Wood drum it into our heads? I swear to God and all that's holy and magical in this world, if he'd come barging into the girl's changing room one more time after practise to tell us off for flirting with Fred and George, he would have been hexed by all of us into the middle of next week.

I don't think the other girls minded so much. They both knew that there was only one girl who was serious about one of the boys. And she had been since that first Quidditch practise in her second year. She was only a reserve then, and spent most of the session watching the two new second year Beaters hammer the seventh year Seeker and Chaser relentlessly. There was something so very wild about the two of them.

Then the two flame-haired wildmen dropped down to ground level, and suddenly those obnoxious Weasley twins that I'd been cursing like crazy all through my first year were a lot more bearable. Wood treated them like his own sons at times, and us girls as his daughters. And everyone rose to it. The five of us second years became inseparable, and Lee Jordan, the twins' friend, evened up the balance. With him commentating on all our matches, we were the closest pack of teenagers in any of the houses. And Wood's rules on the boys not dipping their quills in the team ink made sure that the group stayed completely platonic.

"Shag, snog, slobber or grope and you'll be off the team so quick that you'll burn your backsides on the grass when you land," he thundered at us, at least once a month.

George and Fred started signing off their messages with 'Slobbers and gropes' after that. One of us girls started dreading opening their posts in case someone spotted her blushing.

Inevitably, someone did.

Simply put, with Wood around, no-one could mess about with anyone else on the team. It didn't stop certain members of the team having feelings for certain other members.

Oh, God, this is so pathetic.

Look, when I was thirteen, I had a bit of a crush on the Weasley twins. They were really cute, had everyone in stitches and they flew like every second would be the last of their lives. 

When I was fourteen, I thought that I'd grown out of it. Wood's drilling of us was more than successful. I completely ignored everything I was thinking about one of the twins. Everything.

Last year, George missed a Bludger in practise and it hit me on the shoulder. He was with me before I even realised that it had happened, and made sure I landed safely, and then got me to the hospital wing and held my hand the whole time that Madam Pomfrey was fixing the break.

When I woke up - I blacked out. Dreadful, I know - he was there, just watching me. And the look on his face sent a shiver down my spine.

And ever since then, I haven't been able to hide it at all. I'm absolutely crazy about George Weasley.

Katie Bell asked me once how I could fancy one of the twins, and not the other.

"I can't really see a difference," she said. "I suppose it's a twin thing. They even _dress_ the same, never mind the way the act, the way they think..."

And she's right, sort of.

Except, well, she's not.

You can't expect me to me sensible about this, surely. Fred is Fred, but George is _George_. And with that, you get _everything_.

Fred and George are brash, loud, fun, incredibly smart, handsome, thoughtful and sweet.

But George is the quieter of the two, the more thoughtful, the slightly more sedate one. Together, they're the total package, but put them on their own and they're two different people.

Not _very_ different, obviously. But a little bit. Sort of.

You have to know them, I guess. Which is why all the way through my second year, I sort of liked them both.

As I got to know them, I realised that there _were_ differences. George was slightly calmer, while Fred was the better liar. Fred was the more restless but also the more energetic. George was the calmer twin when one of us had problems with our boyfriends, but when George spoke to the boy, he _stayed_ spoken to, as my grandad always liked to say.

Something else that my grandad used to say: You pays your money and you takes your choice.

There wasn't much to choose between Fred and George, really.  They were really very similar. But I _had_ chosen. I'd chosen George.

Now all I had to do was get him to choose me, too.

It's not easy, getting your best friend to look at you as anything other than, well, your best friend.

It was last year that I owned up to Katie and Angelina about it all. Apart from Katie's comments about choosing one twin over the other - I think she has some secret fantasies regarding two identical men, but I don't want to think about that too deeply - they were really understanding and helped keep Oliver off the scent.

Of course, as all that time spent with Oliver was time spent with George as well...

For a time, I wondered how much of a point there was to it all. When we won the trophy, George celebrated with a sixth year girl in the boys' dormitory rather than with the team. I'm sure he didn't do it to spite me, but with the Cup in the bag and Oliver deliriously happy, it would have been the perfect time to finally say something to him.

Of course, I didn't, otherwise I wouldn't be telling you this. Sorry. It's just that, well, it's all a bit overwhelming. I do get a bit off topic when I talk about George.

Really, my story should start when Angelina came bursting into the dormitory a few weeks ago, just after the other schools showed up for the Tournament.

"Arsehole!"

Katie and I shared a look of amusement.

"What's Fred done this time?" Katie asked.

"I don't want to talk about that sod," Angelina snapped, lashing out at her trunk with a kick that made it topple over and spill its contents all over the floor.

"Well, o-"

"Do you know why he's a sod?"

"I couldn't begin to guess," Katie said, schooling her features into diplomatic blankness. I, meanwhile, buried my face in my pillow and tried not to laugh too loudly as the latest chapter in the Chronicles of Angelina and Frederick unfolded.

Over the next few weeks, there was a definite unbalancing of the group. Fred and Angelina weren't talking, and it was as though all the fun was gone. Try as they might, Lee and George were no match for Fred and George. Fred was too busy walking on eggshells around Angelina to even notice that his brother was suffering in his absence.

So when I left Angelina ranting to Lee and Katie in the library, only to walk in on the twins discussing ways for Fred to apologise to her, I couldn't help but grin.

Fred seemed thunderstruck by the concept of just apologising to Angelina, and while he sat and mulled the concept over, George and I...

Well, I don't know what was about to happen, because just then one of the fourth year girls came bursting into the room and telling everyone that there'd be a ball on Christmas Day.

George, of course, was swamped immediately. There must have been at least a dozen girls around him. There always is, whenever there's a Hogsmeade weekend or when there's a Quidditch match we're not involved in.

How can one girl, a friend for four years, compete against a group of girls he barely knows, who represent no ties and no complications?

I went to bed, suddenly very tired. I don't think he even noticed me leaving.

Tired or not, I didn't sleep very well. I hate this emotional rollercoaster that I've been on all year.

The next morning dawned grey and unpleasant. The best thing about not having Quidditch this year is the lack of early morning practises. We can actually stay in bed until nearly eight o'clock, which is just absolute bliss. 

Fred and George, on the other hand, are always up early, beavering away on unfinished homework or their Wheezes. They reckon that they have to work here, because if they try at home then their mum destroys everything.

Today, though, George was the only one in the room.

"Where's Fred?"

"He's girding his loins," George replied, looking up from a Transfiguration essay with a maddening grin that told me that I'd get no more from him. He patted the sofa next to him, and I sat, a little uneasily. I had a feeling that he wanted to ask my advice about who to go to the ball with. He had the familiar look on his face that I'd seen innumerable times over the last few years, and my heart sank a little.

_Good grief!_ my inner Oliver Wood roared. _So he's not taking you to the ball. Are you going to let it affect your performance?_

I snorted a laugh, and George's mouth hung open, whatever it was he'd been about to say momentarily halted.

I turned the snort into a less-than-convincing cough, and waved for George to go on.

"Er, are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course," I said. "Oh, it's a shame about Fred not being here, but I'm sure I can handle not seeing my favourite Weasley this early in the morning."

I grinned, but he looked a little strange.

"You went off to bed last night without saying anything," he said.

I coloured slightly, embarrassed that he'd noticed when I'd assumed that he wouldn't.

"Well, I... I didn't want to compete with your fan club, did I?"

George laughed. "Those girls who jumped me? They were gone a minute later when I told them that Fred had a date and I didn't know where Harry was."

I smiled, a little ruefully.

"Ali, really, is something wrong? I feel like I've barely seen you this year."

Probably because I'd been avoiding spending time with him, which may set a new record for patheticness.

"Did I do something to upset you?" he asked, more seriously than I've ever known him before. My breath catches in my throat as my inner Oliver screams at me to take the Quaffle and score.

"George, it's not you," I heard myself saying. "There's something I should tell you."

"Yes?" he asked.

"Well, it's just... The thing is... I've been meaning..."

"Yes?" he repeated, looking thoroughly bewildered.

I breathed out, and shut my eyes for a second. _When I open my eyes,_ I though, _I'm going to ask him._

I opened my eyes.

BANG!!!

"Morning, kids. Not interrupting anything, am I?"

I swear, if it weren't for the fact that it would have really upset George and probably crippled my chances of getting him to go to the ball with me, I would happily have killed Fred Weasley just then.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter Two: Fred's Tale

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**_Fred's Tale_**

It's pretty cool, being a twin. Especially when your twin is every bit as insane as you are.

Everyone always seems to focus on the negative side of being a twin. Yeah, we tended to get the same clothes, yeah, people always mistake us for each other and yeah, sometimes a girl will fall for the one who doesn't fancy her.

But on the other hand, because we dress the same, people mistake us for one another. This means alibis, especially when we're doing the sort of thing that Filch gets all uptight about.

It's strange. If one of us is someplace and making enough noise, then nine times out of ten, people will swear that we were both there. It's almost magic.

What generally _is_ magic is what the other one of us is getting up to, two floors down and three trick staircases away.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Well, we have to test them somewhere, right? And where better to do our testing than on our favourite caretaker, Argus Filch?

Life is going to be _incredibly_ dull when we leave Hogwarts next summer and have to cope without our chum and his mangy cat.

Still, while we're here, there's lots - and lots. Oh, and lots and lots and lots - of fun to be had.

Um...

The thing is...

You see, if I tell George, then he'll think that I've gone absolutely mad.

But...

Oh, sod it.

It's all to do with this ruddy Tri-Wizard Tournament. That's the problem.

And I don't mean that I'm worried about Harry being involved. The kid's made of stern stuff, and he's survived sharing a house with George and me. What can a bunch of doddering old teachers - and Professor Dumbledore, of course - come up with that'd faze him? Not to mention his saving Ginny's life, and all the other mad stuff he's got up to.

You know, he once flew Dad's flying car into the Whomping Willow. Him and ickle Ronniekins, anyway. I'd have _killed_ to do that, but Harry acted like it was no big deal.

So he's barking mad, and I don't have any concerns about him being in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He'll probably win, or at least be in there at the finish.

No, the problem with the Tournament is that, well...

Look, what you have to understand is that...

Bugger.

I suppose I should start at the beginning, shouldn't I? I mean, it'd make sense, right? It's just that being off topic is kind of fun.

Look, George and me, we're well settled into life at Hogwarts. We had a bit of a settling in period at first, you know, a couple of days when we were learning our way around and not mucking around _too_ much. But Bill and Charlie had told us so much about the place, and Percy told us so much about the teachers, that it quickly felt just like home.

And when you feel comfortable someplace, you don't mind blowing bits of it up, right?

So by the end of our first year, George and me were pretty well known. Oh, we lost loads of points for Gryffindor and had to book detentions a month in advance because we had so many of them, but people thought we were brilliant.

Including the girls.

Now, at first it was fun, you know? The girls were just like the boys, in their way. But in our second year we made it onto the house Quidditch team. The thought of Oliver Wood referring to us as 'a pair of human Bludgers' still brings a tear to my eye. And at first, there was no difference.

Then, one day, the girls were suddenly different.

I don't know how to describe it, but they weren't just longhaired boys anymore. They were _girls_.

Oh, and the girls loved a Weasley in a Quidditch uniform, believe me.

At first, there wasn't much to it, of course. Just a bit of snogging. Then as we got older, it got to be more and more, well, you know. Let's just say that we could always have something for the weekend, if we wanted. And sometimes other days of the week, too.

By the end of last year, it wasn't just detentions we were booking in advance, it was time alone in the dormitory. Fortunately, it's just George, Lee and me, and we worked out a rota that kept everyone happy.

And now there's the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Ruddy thing.

Because one day, long ago in second year, everyone on the house team got talking about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and how cool it'd be if it was ever held again. And we made a pact that we'd all enter if it ever came up.

Ruddy pact.

Of course, this year it's being held again. And it's being held at Hogwarts. And Angelina Johnson is the only one of us who was old enough to cross the Age Line and put her name in the Goblet.

Ruddy Age Line.

Merlin's _teeth_, that was an argument and a half...

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"Hey Angelina," I said. I was always one for the classic opening lines.

"Hey Fred." So was she.

"Big news about the Tournament, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm definitely going to enter," she said.

"Oh, right. Are you sure you want to?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, turning those big, brown eyes of hers on me in surprise. "A thousand Galleons? And just think how famous the champion will be!"

"It's going to be dangerous," I said, frowning slightly.

"Nah, won't be that bad," she said, grinning slightly. "Besides, didn't I hear you telling your little brother that the danger would add spice to it?"

Arse. Yeah, I said that. Me and my big mouth.

"That's different," I said, slowly.

"Different how?" she asked, her gaze icing over slightly. I shivered. 

"We're, well, we're Weasleys," I said lamely. "We're used to a bit of rough and tumble."

"And I'm not?" Angelina asked, her voice as cold as her gaze.

"A Weasley? Well, you really don't have the hair for it," I said, laughing slightly as I reached out to brush at her fringe. She slapped my hand away.

"Fred, how long have we been on the team together?" she demanded.

"Well, four years this year," I said.

"And have you ever known me shy away from anything rough?"

"Well, no."

"So why should I be worried about the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" she asked.

Dragons, werewolves, merbeasts, giant spiders... Not to mention all the spells a Tri-Wizard Champion would probably have to fight. Yeah, I could have said some of that, could have made her realise how dangerous the Tournament would be.

I could have. Instead, I just stood there, looking stupid and feeling like I'd been hit with a hammer.

Because, well, Angelina's a _girl_.

And if I said that to her, she'd have hit me so hard that I'd have been lucky to land within Hogwarts grounds.

But it just hit me, right then, that standing in front of me was a great friend who also happened to be a really, really attractive young woman, and one who I suddenly wanted to keep from getting hurt.

Don't you just _hate_ it when that happens?

I blame Wood, myself. The whole time that he was captain, he drilled it into us: No dipping your quill in the team's inkpot. And he bloody well made sure that we understood what would happen to us if we started dipping and it all went wrong.

So for three years I'd been looking at Angelina as, well, a friend. Not a girl, just a good friend, and definitely not someone who I wanted very much to stop her glaring at me by shoving her up against the wall and snogging her senseless.

Now, this all could have gone a hell of a lot worse. Fortunately for me, George came past right then and spilled a bunch of fireworks in between Angelina and me. By the time we'd put them all out - oh, _all right_, George and me made a few more of them go off. I mean, might as well have a bit of fun, right? - the moment had passed and Angelina had calmed down a bit. 

'Course, she was still glaring Killing Curses at me, but what's a guy to do?

I spent the next two weeks on tenterhooks around her, trying to avoid getting speared on that gaze of hers, the one that makes it feel like I'm the biggest piece of scum on the face of the planet.

Just for once, I was actually quite enjoying the lessons. We'd started working on our NEWTs and had loads of work to do, but Mad-Eye Moody's Defence classes weren't exactly a chore, you know? He was teaching us all kinds of useful stuff, and some of it even had a practical use. Like how to hex that Malfoy arsehole if we ever got the chance.

One of the problems with not playing Quidditch this year is that there's a lot less time to hang out with the girls. Despite what McGonagall says, the team has tended to get cut a bit of slack by a lot of our teachers when it comes to our work. This year, though, the only classes that I have with Angelina are Transfiguration and Potions, and they're not classes you can muck about in. So it was up to me, and Moody's little tips on ambushes and surprise tactics, to catch Angelina and get her on her own.

Of course, I enlisted George's help. He knew that Angelina and I had argued, and was happy to get two of the team back on speaking terms. I don't think he had any idea what we'd argued about, nor why I was so eager to get Angelina talking to me again.

"So, how am I going to apologise to her?" I asked, late one evening. It was over a month since the argument, and she hadn't shown a single sign of forgiveness yet

"Well," George said, sitting up and looking happy. "You could slide down the banister on a tea tray and crash though the doors into the Great Hall bearing a huge bunch of roses and declaring how sorry you are before the entire school tomorrow lunchtime."

I grinned. It's always nice to have someone who thinks the same way you do. I suppose it's a twin thing.

"Nice, but a bit flashy. I reckon I'll save that for Christmas," I said. "I was thinking something a bit more low key."

George looked appalled. I couldn't blame him. I don't think we've done _anything_ low key since we were about three years old.

"Well..." he said, looking dubious. "What about doing something _for_ her? Remember Nicola Gravstein?"

"Yeah. You dated her for about three weeks, didn't you?"

"Still my record. I was thinking about how she liked me to carry her bag around and stuff. Simple stuff like that. Be a gentleman."

"Ah, well, I'm not sure that'll go down too well, either," I said. I was starting to feel pretty miserable, and George definitely looked worried about me.

"If you told me what you were arguing about, it might help."

"I sort of suggested she couldn't handle being in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Because she's a girl?"

"Well, yeah, sort of."

"Oh." George's shoulders sagged, and he looked like he was about to be ill. "You're lucky to be alive, you know that?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Fred, this is bad. This is very, very bad. You _know_ how mad Angelina got back in third year when Marcus Flint started putting it about that she was only on the team 'cos Oliver fancied her."

"Yeah, that was stupid. Everyone knows that Oliver bats for the other side."

"Fred..."

"Oh, alright. Back to business. How can I apologise to Angelina..."

"Just say you're sorry?"

It was Alicia, one of our other Quidditch team-mates. George perked up immediately.

"Genius," he said. "It's so simple, and it'll work."

"You really think so?" I asked. It seemed almost too simple.

"Trust me," Alicia said. "All she wants is an apology from you. I'm just sick of hearing about it all the time."

I blushed slightly, a first in my experience. Neither of the other two noticed though, probably because they were lost in their own little world. Another day I'd have had something to say about that. Now I was wondering whether Alicia's suggestion might have some merit to it. It seemed too simple.

I looked at the list George and I had prepared

_Gred__: Rocket powered broomstick with go-faster stripes_

**Forge: Fireworks display in front of all the school__**

_Gred__: Declare that you'd sooner snog Snape than argue with her a moment longer. Then snog Snape to show how serious you are.****_

**Forge: Tickets to the next World Cup. As a player. Someone must need a good, young Chaser.**

_Gred__: Slip McGonagall some Ton Tongue Toffee so you can spend all the next Transfig lesson apologising._

**Forge: Canary Creams. Everyone likes canaries, right?**

On the other hand, simple was probably good.

Just then, one of the younger girls - another twin, quite pretty but a bit young, maybe a girl for Ron? - came bursting into the common room.

"No manners, young people today," George wheezed, in an elderly manner. Alicia laughed.

"There's going to be a ball on Christmas Day!" the younger girl said, breathlessly.

Suddenly the common room was in uproar, for about five seconds, anyway.

Then they noticed that I was sitting absolutely still, not jumping up and down or shouting or any of the other reactions I save up for such momentous announcements. In fact, I was sitting there completely thunderstruck.

I'd just had the most _amazing_ idea.

I looked up, and blushed - again! - as I realised everyone was looking at me, waiting for my reaction.

I jumped up, a huge grin on my face, and let out a bellow of delight.

Everyone else started capering and yelling too, and my grin receded slightly as I relaxed my forced expression of glee.

But it only receded very slightly, because I'd had the _best_ idea.

Not only was I going to apologise to Angelina, but I was going to ask her to this ball.

What could possibly be better than that?

_To be continued..._

Thanks to Ithildiel, Sailor J-chan/DuoxHilde 4ever, Yoshi-fan2003, Jagged Epiphany, Star2717 for reviewing the first part of the story. Hope you've enjoyed Fred's fractured take on life.


	3. Chapter Three: Angelina's Tale

**_Angelina's Tale_**

"Oi! Angelina?"

"What?"

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

I paused, for a moment completely thrown. I looked at Fred Weasley appraisingly. He wasn't joking, for a change.

"All right, then," I said, and turned back to Alicia, who was telling me about George and her. It all had a pleasing symmetry to it.

We carried on chatting for a few minutes, before it hit me.

_What the bloody hell just happened there?_

I looked around, but Fred had gone off somewhere, and I was left completely awestruck by how well he'd managed to blindside me. Twice in twenty-four hours.

That's _really_ not fair.

I suppose it's my own fault. A month or so ago, Fred and I had a stupid argument about me entering the Tri-Wizard tournament. It was all blown completely out of proportion by me over-reacting to what Fred _wasn't_ saying. He was just being concerned, rather than condescending, and I realised that, eventually.

So why didn't I just forget the whole thing?

Well, for a start, there was the small matter of Fred being, well, pretty good looking this year.

I suppose he was last year. I didn't really notice. I was going out with Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff, and between that and Sirius Black, the Dementors and the fuss over the Quidditch Cup, I didn't have much time to think about the Beaters on our house team as anything other than good friends. In the end, though, it was Fred and George who got Zacharias back for cheating on me in spectacular fashion.

And then, this year, Fred got on the train at Kings Cross and my stomach dropped. Katie and Alicia spent the next week teasing me about the expression on my face and, to be fair, they had a point. I've always been nearly as mad about Quidditch as Oliver has, and so I've never been bothered by his 'don't date in the team' rules.

And yes, I know the twins call it something different. They can be incredibly childish at times. Dipping your quill... _Men_.

Anyway, before I get too far off topic, back to Fred.

I think that my reasoning behind keeping that stupid fight going was that if we were arguing, I didn't have to try and work out what my feelings were for him. Because, suddenly, they were all over the place.

There were my feelings for my friend, the barking mad joker who makes every class a place where the wise among us tread carefully. Those who don't tread carefully become wise soon enough.

There were my feelings for my _best_ friend, who was ready to break Zacharias' neck when it turned out he'd been seeing that Slytherin fifth year behind my back.

There were the feelings for the Beater, without whom the Gryffindor Quidditch team would be a weaker unit.

There were the feelings for the surprising, unpredictable side of Fred, who last Valentine's Day dressed up as the Easter Bunny - on a day when we had Potions, no less - to take my mind off Zacharias Smith. That side of him combines all the other parts into one, and this year I've been seeing a bit more of it than I had in previous years. 

So there were a lot of feelings, and it was all very confusing. At first, I was sure I'd latched on to Fred as someone who was reliably unreliable. Any relationship that I had with him was going to be fun, short, and free of the false promises made to me by Zacharias.

So why didn't I go for it?

I mean, would Fred have turned me down?

There was a tiny part of me that said, yes, he would have done. And that thought worried me. I tried to be logical about it: Why would he want to risk ruining his friendship with me for a brief fling? He's always been the no-ties type...

There was a bigger part of me, and it was getting bigger each time I thought about it, that said a brief fling wasn't what I really wanted. And I hated that. How thoroughly and completely stupid of me to fall for my best friend, and to fall hard, at that.

So I did my best to ignore those feelings, and to ignore Fred as well. It shouldn't have been very hard. There was usually plenty of noise wherever Fred was, after all.

Imagine my disgust at showing up wherever he happened to be almost wherever I went. It took me nearly two _weeks _to realise that the others were steering us towards one another, and that they expected us just to make up, as we usually do in our group when two of us have a spat.

Of course, if it's Fred and George who have an argument, then that always degenerates into them testing their Wheezes on each other. Sometimes I think that it's just an excuse to makes lots of noise and mess...

Wait, what am I _saying_? 

When Fred and George argue, they do it as a prelude to making lots of noise and mess. It's a warning, not an excuse. We're here, we're bickering, and this will be resolved loudly and stickily. Get clear now, while you have a chance to emerge unscathed. I suppose it's a twin thing, or more likely just a Fred and George thing.

But it just wasn't as easy as that for Fred and I. Not as I was doing everything in my power to stay mad at him. He would have to apologise, I decided and publicised. Only then could things go back to normal.

Yeah, me and my big mouth, right?

Still, for a while, I thought that I was safe. Despite knowing that all he had to do was apologise, Fred stayed out of my way. Now, I know he was just waiting for the right moment. Then, I was hoping that he'd just stay out of my way.

Fred may have worn a fluffy pink bunny suit into Potions last year, and earned himself about six months worth of detentions from Snape, but he wouldn't be stupid enough to make my cauldron explode.

No, only one person would be so totally idiotic to manage that. And you're looking at her.

In my defence, I was flustered and tired. And the Deadly Fatal Draught of Mortal Death is a tricky potion. And Katie was distracting me by telling us how Lee had asked her to the ball.

And Fred was _right across the aisle from me!_

So there were lots of reasons that I was distracted, and anyone could have done what I did and added half a bottle of shark's tears rather than two drops.

So I was rattled when I left Potions that day. I was upset, and annoyed, and flustered, and aghast at losing thirty points from Gryffindor's total.

And then Fred appeared, as if from nowhere, and cornered me.

I barely noticed. That's how distracted I was.

Now, if could have stayed that distracted, I would have been fine. Pathetically, I looked up and lost my train of thought as I looked into Fred's open and - for once - honest face.

"I just wanted to say that I was sorry," he said. "You're having a bad enough day as it is, so I thought that if I apologised then maybe it would cheer you up. So, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" I echoed, a little stupidly.

His eyes locked onto mine, and he nodded slowly and clearly.

"That's right," he said, his voice unusually sombre. "I'm sorry for making it seem like I was putting down your abilities as a witch. I apologise for trying to make you doubt your decision to enter the Tri-wizard Tournament as well. You had every right to enter, more than George and I did, even."

My mind went back to that Saturday morning, visiting the twins in the hospital wing as their long beards moulted. I remembered plucking a number of the hairs from Fred's chin at a point when I was still genuinely furious with him. Lee had come up with the idea of trimming Fred and George's beards while they still had them, so that they could see what they looked like with different types of facial hair. George had ended up with a handlebar moustache that did nothing for him, but Fred...

I shivered at the memory.

Fred had ended up with a goatee that made him look at least five years older and much more handsome.

And now, with a serious look on his face that I couldn't remember ever seeing there before, he looked more handsome still.

"Um... Okay," I managed.

"Okay, you've forgiven me?" he asked, looking a lot more cheerful.

"Er, yes?" I said. What was I supposed to have been forgiving him for again?

"Angelina, I'm being serious here," he said, needlessly. I could tell that much.

"Look," he said, frowning slightly. "It's really important that you forgive me."

"Why?" I asked, a little fire igniting in my stomach. "Is this part of some big joke, Fred? If so, I'm not in the mood." I pushed past him, and stalked off down the corridor. "I'm having a horrible day, and-"

"Will you listen?" he said, striding quickly to catch up with me. "That's what I'm saying. I'm trying to brighten up your day a bit-"

"If the only reason you're apologising is to try and cheer me up," I glared at him, "then get out of my way, Fred Weasley. I don't need that kind of apology."

He looked at me in frustration, as though he were wondering whether hammering his apology home with a heavy rock would work better. Then he smiled. It wasn't a trademarked Weasley grin, or the smirk of a Weasley twin who's just thought of a way to liven up a dull moment.

This was the soft, winning smile of the man that I think Fred Weasley will one day come to be, and I knew then and there that I wanted to see a lot more of it.

"Angelina, you've been my best mate for years now. You're one of the most important people in the world to me, and when you're not a part of my life I always feel horrible. I treated you badly, and for that I'm genuinely sorry. I'd really, really like you to forgive me my stupidity so that we can go back to being as close as we were before I was an even bigger idiot than normal."

It was enough. More than enough. I accepted his apology, and the rest of the day was as fun as there had ever been with the six of us.

And then, tonight, he came out of nowhere and asked me to the ball. Shouted it across the common room, really.

I was eyed him up for a few seconds, trying to work out exactly what it was Fred Weasley was up to this time.

But there was nothing but open, honest enquiry in his face. No hint of guile, no subterfuge, no suggestion that this was all a line up for one great big joke (and after being his friend for so long, I think I'd know what it looked like if it _was_ there).

There was just openness, a hint of bravado to show off to George, Harry and Ron and the faintest hint of anxiety, as though he were worried I might say no.

I said yes, of course, you already know that.

As Fred sat down, I caught a fleeting glimpse of his face. There was a broad grin plastered across it that makes _me_ grin just thinking about it.

But it's the memory of the honest Fred that makes me smile the most. It's not a side of him that many people get to see, I imagine, and I like it.

I hope to see more of it. A _lot_ more.

_To be continued..._

**Author Note: **Thanks to Just Kidding Rowling, SuckerForGrint06, Stephenie Wilcox, Siobhan, Star2717, Ashliegh, Jagged Epiphany, sweet like chocolate and Sherbert79 for reviewing Fred's tale. Next wekk, hopefully, I'll bring you the conclusion to the story: George's Tale. For now, I hope you enjoyed Angelina's account, and please remember to review :-)


	4. Chapter Four: George's Tale

**__**

**_George's Tale_**

Alicia Spinnet.

Alicia Spi_nnet_.

Alicia _Spinn_et.

A_li_cia Spinnet.

...

Alicia _Weasley_.

...

Bugger.

...

Bugger Oliver Wood.

Bugger Oliver Wood and his sodding stupid rules.

Bugger Oliver Wood and his sodding stupid rules about intra-team fraternisation.

You see, according to Wood, it was okay to muck around with almost any girl from Gryffindor or the other houses. I think he secretly hoped that Cho Chang or some other girl playing for one of the house teams would fall for us gorgeous Weasley boys and get stuck when they were playing against us.

Thinking logically - for maybe the only time in his Quidditch-obsessed life - Wood banned us from dipping our quills in the team inkpot. 

"No romantic involvement!" he thundered at us back in our second year. "I don't want you chasing your _girlfriend_ out there if a Bludger goes for her! I want you chasing your team-mates!"

"Can we chase our team-mates when we're not playing, then?" Fred asked innocently.

"Keep your mouth shut for once, Weasley," he snapped. "I know what you two are like. I've seen the girls drooling after you. Try it on with one of my Chasers and I'll have your privates on a plate!"

Fred and me exchanged a quick look. Girls? Drooling after us? That was news to us. I knew exactly what Fred was thinking right then: That this was something worth investigating. 

And guess what? Oliver was right: The girls _did_ love us Weasley boys. Of course, it would have been unfair to restrict ourselves to just one girl, right? So we spread the love, never made any promises we couldn't keep - something to be avoided, in my experience - and listened closely to Bill and Charlie's advice on certain charms that kept us from being in a position that would have made Mum cry, which is _definitely_ to be avoided.

The whole time, though, I had half an eye on Alicia, which can really put a crimp in a man's love life.

I just... She's always been there, right? And somewhere along the way, she wasn't just a friend anymore. I don't know when. It may have been always, it may have been yesterday. It happened gradually, and it was never a case of waking up one day and thinking: "Today I fancy Alicia Spinnet." 

So, I've been dealing with that while, at the same time, keeping my hand in. Being a Weasley means that you do get a certain amount of female attention - even Ron's starting to get girls looking after him, not that's he's noticed, dozy twit - and being part of the fabulous Gred and Forge means that the attention is just amplified.

Still, Fred does seem to have more girls after him. And some of the girls I get seem to have this idea that I'm a good listener, someone to spill their hearts out to. The night we won the Quidditch Cup last year? I was listening to a sixth year girl spill her heart out to me about her Hufflepuff boyfriend who she thought was cheating on her. It's all very well being caring and generous and all that stuff, but I wanted to be at the party, dancing with the others, downing Butterbeer and cosying up to Alicia...

Fred, for the record, disappeared that night in the direction of the Prefect's bathroom to meet, I believe, Sarah Harding, a seventh year Ravenclaw who's already been on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ three times.

Talk about rubbing it in.

But I'm getting off topic here, aren't I? Back to Alicia, then.

The day that Fred apologised to Angelina - stylish, in a bizarrely low key kind of way - I think that I was about to kiss Alicia. Until Fred came in, of course.

You see, she was sitting next to me on the sofa, and she was stammering over something that seemed really, really important to her. Then she shut her eyes, and took a deep breath, and I leaned in impulsively, because for that split second, she looked like she as about to cry.

In my experience, crying stops when you kiss someone. It's amazing how well it works.

I mean, okay, they might only stop them crying long enough to whack you with a broomstick, but it works, right?

You should have seen Oliver's face when Fred and I kissed him after we lost to Hufflepuff last year...

Look, it's painful to watch a grown man cry, right? _Especially_ Oliver Wood.

Still, I suppose that now he's a big Quidditch star, Fred and I could make our fortunes by selling the story of that morning to the _Prophet_. I bet Rita Skeeter would lap it up, the cow.

Ugh. Rita Skeeter. Let's talk about a much nicer woman. Let's talk some more about Alicia.

So, I nearly kissed her. And then Fred interrupted. I suppose it's a twin thing, the impeccable timing that lets you spoil the moment for the other person. I just wish, for once, that I could do it to him rather than him to me.

The rest of the day was weird. Alicia got caught in the blast when Angelina's cauldron exploded, and that sniggering loon Warrington made some snide remark about her burnt shirt being easier to take off.

With Fred being nowhere to be seen once the lesson ended, I strode up to Warrington during lunch.

"Warrington," I growled. "Stand up."

"Why?" he grunted.

"So I can knock you on your fat arse," I said. I've always believed in honesty.

"What for?" he said.

"For insulting my friend during Potions," I said.

Warrington sniggered, and I was ready to pound him then and there.

Then he stood up, and for the faintest moment I regretted not having backup ready.

Warrington is _huge_.

Fortunately, I had a trick up my sleeve, but then, I always do. As co-founder of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, it'd be embarrassing if I didn't have several samples on me at any given time.

The prototype Wildfire Whiz-bang went down the front of Warrington's trousers quicker than anything had ever been down there before, I'd bet. The Ton Tongue Toffee went in his mouth while he gasped in surprise and I threw in a Canary Cream as well, just to see what happened.

What happened was Warrington's trousers exploding as he got thrown ten feet backwards across the Slytherin table. Fortunately for everyone, the Ton Tongue Toffee took hold and the four-foot pink thing hanging out of his mouth prevented anyone from catching sight of his unmentionables.

And I use the word with feeling, believe me.

Just as the stunned silence faded, Warrington swallowed the Canary Cream.

It seems the Ton Tongue and Canary Cream spells don't mix very well.

Or they mix incredibly well.

I suppose it depends on whether you're Warrington or not.

He exploded.

Oh, not in a messily fatal way, although I don't think that would have bothered me very much, 'cos he's always been a git.

No, he expanded in every direction at once, swelling until he was about three times his normal size.

He started to float, bobbing off the ground.

He started to change colour, turning an interesting shade of purple that actually matched my dress robes rather nicely. I shall think of him whenever Iwear them_._

Oh, and he started to molt. First his eyelashes and eyebrows. Then the revolting skinny moustache that even makes some of the teachers shudder when they see it. Then, finally, the hair began to fall from his head in his great clumps.

Warrington bobbed gently in the slight breeze coming through the doors at the end of the hall. Everyone seemed too stunned to say anything.

Then there was a familiar clunking nose from behind me.

"Weasley," Mad-Eye growled from behind me.

"Professor Moody."

"That was a cold-blooded attack on an unarmed opponent, lad," he said. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him leaning heavily on his staff, watching contemplatively as Warrington bobbed helplessly four foot above the ground, his tongue the only thing touching the floor. By now, he was hanging upside down and even some of the Slytherins were sniggering at him.

"Yes sir, I know. I'm prepared to take my punishment."

"Right. We'll call it thirty points from Gryffindor and a detention with me tonight," he said shortly, before turning away and clunking off.

I did my best to hide a grin as I walked back to the Gryffindor table. Thirty points was nothing, and a detention with Moody'd probably be fun. Moody's _cool_.

"What was that about?" Alicia asked, as Warrington was towed past us on his way to the hospital wing. He was yelping indistinctly as the person taking him out of the Hall was pulling him along by his tongue.

"Oh, I just didn't like what Warrington said to you earlier," said, not wanting to look at her as I said this. I wasn't sure how she'd react.

"You did that for me?"

I nodded.

"Oh. Well, thank you, I suppose."

"You're my friend, Alicia. I wasn't going to let him get away with it."

"It doesn't bother me, George," she said.

I looked at her.

"It bothers me," I said. "I care about you too much to let Warrington and his mates get their kicks out of making fun of you."

Alicia was silent for most of the rest of the day after that. It was after dinner before she spoke again, cornering me in the common room.

"George, if I ask you something, do you promise not to laugh at me?"

Anyone else, of course, this would have been a cue for me to launch into banter with them about how I could promise not to laugh when I didn't know if what they were going to say was funny or not.

Not with Alicia, though.

She looked really, really nervous.

Well, okay, she was biting her lip, which is a bit of body language I've always found incredibly cute in girls, and which just made me want to pull Alicia onto the sofa and...

Yeah, well, _anyway_.

All that flashed through my head in about a half-second. When I looked up, Alicia was still there, still biting her lip, still wringing her hands.

"Of course," I said, waving her to a seat opposite me. "Ask away."

She sat, and wrung her hands some more.

"George," she said, slowly. "Do you like me?"

"Yes," I said, simply.

"How?"

"How?"

"Yes, how. How do you like me?"

This is the sort of surreal conversation I'm more used to having with Fred. I tried to wrap my head around what she's asking.

I tried. But I failed. Completely.

"Can you... I don't know what you mean," I admitted.

She looked at me as though I'd betrayed her, and the next thing she said sounded like it took a hell of a lot of courage to say.

"Do you like me more than as a friend?"

Ah.

You see my dilemma? This girl that I'm crazy about asks me if I'm crazy about her. By rights, if it were a perfect world, I'd just say yes.

But it's not a perfect world, kids. It's a deeply imperfect world, and for all I know, she's asking because after today's lunchtime, she's scared that I have all these higher feelings for her and it's going to impact badly on our relationship.

It might me a dilemma, I suppose, were I anyone but a Weasley. We're Gryffindors, through and through, remember?

"Yes, I do," I said.

"Oh."

I waited. I couldn't read Alicia. I don't normally have a problem with that, because she's a very open person. But at that moment, her face was completely blank, which I found a little unsettling.

"I..." She was screwing up her courage again, and I could tell that this was taking a lot out of her.

So I leant forward and kissed her, as softly as I could, and then sat back.

"Alicia," I asked. "Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball on Christmas Day?"

She smiled, and I smiled, and we were happy.

Later on, I made my way upstairs to the dormitory, possibly whistling a jaunty tune as I did so. Certainly when I walked in, Fred was quick to spot that I was in a good mood.

"Finally asked Alicia out, did you?"

"Yes. And what's with the finally, Mr I've-Fancied-Angelina-Since-I-Was-Eleven?"

"I fancy every girl I meet," Fred said, magnanimously. "It saves time. You, on the other hand, have been drooling after Alicia since third year."

"Rubbish," I said, collapsing back onto my bed.

"Truth," he said.

"Well, whatever," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "We both have dates for the Yule Ball, yes?"

"Looks like it, provided we don't upset the girls between now and then."

We exchanged a look. We both knew what the other was thinking.

"How upset would they have to be with us before they'd break the dates?"

We looked at each other, identical grins spreading across our faces.

**The End**

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story. I hope you continue to enjoy my stories. If you want to be updated whenever I begin a new story, or upload a new chapter, then you can sign up for my mailing list at 


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